


The Rush

by heartstrings



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff, Gay Porn Hard, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartstrings/pseuds/heartstrings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny stops at the opening of the alcove and watches him for a moment. He lets his eyes slip over the frame of Patrick’s body, the black spandex that’s molded to the shape and curves of his muscular arms, the breadth of his back that tapers down to his waist, the gorgeous swell of his ass encased in those ridiculous black leggings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rush

**Author's Note:**

> My offering to the Hockey Gods for Gay Porn Hard. And in just under the wire! This is based off these [awesome gifs](http://pattytkane.tumblr.com/post/107521635168) if you're wondering.

“You guys seen Kaner?”

There’s only a few guys in the locker room, but it’s Duncs who raises his head from tying one of his shoes. “I think he was headed to the weight room.”

Jonny nods and debates on whether to go find him first or to take a shower.

It’s late afternoon and they had practice at the UC today and before that team meetings. Patrick had stayed behind to get in some extra ice time with Mike and Jonny had rode the bike for a while and then lifted, so he knows Patrick’s not, in fact, in the weight room. Which means he’s either conditioning with Paul or he’s off stretching.

It’s a thing he likes to do, Jonny’s figured out over the years. Mostly before games he’ll disappear off on his own, take some time to loosen himself up, be alone, be quiet, to get in the zone. Each guy has his own thing. Shawzy likes to get in everyone’s faces, too hyped to sit still. Seabs likes to sit in his stall and methodically tape his stick. Bicks and Saader play ball or argue over who’s better at Trivia Crack. Jonny likes to check up on everyone or catch up on his texts or maybe go over successful plays in his head. And Patrick, Patrick likes to stretch alone.

They’re all sticklers for their routine so it’s not often that he’ll stretch alone before and after practice unless he purposefully wants to be alone. Only Jonny’s not sure why Patrick would want to be alone. He’d seemed fine in the car on the drive to the rink that morning, he’d seemed fine during practice, had even been goofing off with Sharpy about, of all things, Maddie’s new obsession with One Direction.

So Jonny’s sort of mystified to find Patrick not in his usual stretching spot just off the main hallway from the staff parking lot, but rather, the one tucked away in a corner where he goes when he doesn’t want to be found.

The light is dim in this part of the building; all concrete walls and a little tucked away dead end with one maintenance closet. Patrick’s got a tennis ball in one hand, arms pressed against the wall as he’s swinging one leg back and forth. There’s music emanating from the iPod strapped to his arm, his head slightly swaying back and forth to the beat of the song.

Jonny stops at the opening of the alcove and watches him for a moment. He lets his eyes slip over the frame of Patrick’s body, the black spandex that’s molded to the shape and curves of his muscular arms, the breadth of his back that tapers down to his waist, the gorgeous swell of his ass encased in those ridiculous black leggings. 

Every time Patrick swings his leg from side to side it gives Jonny a better view of that beautiful body, and the too hot swell of his ass. And he can’t. He can’t not be touching him right now.

So he slips up behind Patrick, wrapping his arms around his middle and fitting himself against the sweat damp curl of Patrick’s body.

Patrick jumps, but doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop listening to his music. Jonny sways with him, arms loosening and dropping to the edge of Patrick’s shirt. He inches his fingers underneath the fabric and splays them over warm slick skin, rubbing up to his chest and over his pecs and then his nipples.

Patrick shivers at that, leaning back more into Jonny’s embrace and fitting Jonny’s dick up against the crease of his ass. Jonny can’t help it, he moans, the thin fabric of his shorts and Patrick’s under-armour sliding smoothly together let’s his cock glide against the heated curve between Patrick’s ass cheeks. He places a wet kiss to the back of Patrick’s neck, licking at the salty sweat below his hairline as he rubs one of his hands over Patrick’s nipple and the other over the telling bulge in his pants.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes and drops his head against the wall and the tennis ball in his hand. It bounces down the hall a ways before it stops.

Jonny hums and sucks at the side of his neck all the while rubbing at Patrick’s dick as his own cock hardens against Patrick’s ass.

“What the hell are you doing?” Patrick says, one arm still braced on the wall as he reaches to pull his earbuds out. He sounds breathless and half-drunk and Jonny wants nothing more in this moment than to utterly wreck him.

“Thinking about fucking you,” he says, soft and sure into Patrick’s ear.

“You dick,” Patrick says and it’s more of a huffed out laugh because he can’t stop panting. “Anybody could walk by and see us.”

Jonny leaves Patrick’s nipple to reach up to his face and turn his head. He licks at Patrick’s mouth, sucking in his bottom lip before he tangles their tongues together. 

They stay like that for long minutes, Jonny grinding against him and fucking his mouth, half jacking him off and feeling the tell-tell wetness leaking from Patrick’s cock and through his pants.

“Nobody comes down here but you,” he says, when he comes up for air.

“You found me.” Patrick says on a gasp as Jonny fits his hand inside the front of Patrick’s pants and takes a hold of him. “So someone else might…”

“No. I know where to look.”

He tries to get a better grip on Patrick’s dick, but his pants keep getting in the way. It’s almost as frustrating as the way Patrick is leaning into him and away just enough to be noticeable. He looks over his shoulder to make sure no one’s around. It’s quiet as far as he can hear, but for their heavy breathing. And, well, fuck it. 

He reaches up and pulls Patrick’s pants down to above his knees because he needs to feel Patrick up against him bare and he needs to feel it now.

“Jonny.”

“It’s fine. It’s just us, okay. Just let me. Please,” he says and it’s with one hand hot around Patrick’s fat cock and the other grasping the side of his face, Jonny’s finger trailing over his plush lips.

Patrick groans and mouths at Jonny’s finger before sucking it into his mouth like the filthiest lollipop.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot like this. I’m so hard for you.” Jonny says, pressing himself all along Patrick’s back and rocking them into the wall.

Patrick moans when he adds another finger, greedily, sloppily sucking at them both as he fucks Jonny’s fist. And Jesus, Jonny wants him so bad. Always.

“I know you’re mad at me,” he breathes. “I don’t know why because I’m an asshole, but let me make it up to you. Let me make you feel good. I can make you feel so good, Peeks. I know you want it. I know you want me to fuck you until you can’t think, until you can’t move, until it’s only me inside of you.”

“Oh god,” Patrick says around his fingers, thrusting his dick into Jonny’s hand like he’s so, so close.

Jonny hasn’t even touched his own dick yet and just watching Patrick come apart like this is making his balls tighten up, heat filling his groin. Whenever they’re together like this something lights up inside of him, something unnamable and intense and fucking terrifying. It’s the same kind of something he feels every time he steps onto the ice for an important win. It’s something he doesn’t know how to breathe without.

He slips his fingers free from Patrick’s mouth and brings them down to circle over Patrick’s hole, spreading the slick of his spit around and dipping the tip of one finger into Patrick’s unbelievable heat.

“Jon,” Patrick whines, clawing at the wall as his head droops forward, all his strings cut. “Need you.”

“Need me to what?” he says, light, teasing even as he presses his finger in up to the knuckle.

“You fucking fuck. Just fuck me,” Patrick says on a growl. And Jonny would laugh, but for the way Patrick’s rocking back against his finger now, hungry for it, desperate. And there are few things in life that Jonny loves more than Patrick frantic for his cock.

He can’t think of any of them now, but there might be one or two. Maybe.

“Hold on,” Jonny says and moves away.

When he lets Patrick go, finger coming free from the clutch of Patrick’s body, Patrick turns sharply to glare at him. 

“What?”

Jonny extracts the lube packet from his pocket and holds it up with a smug grin. “I come prepared.”

“You may not come at all if you don’t hurry up,” he says and turns around to face the wall again.

Jonny barks out a laugh and leans forward to kiss Patrick’s neck. “I love you.”

“Do you?” Patrick says, and it’s so soft and small that Jonny’s not sure he’s heard it at all.

They both still, Jonny because he realizes that, holy shit balls, it’s the first time he’s actually said that out loud and Patrick because…well, he’s not sure.

He presses his whole body into Patrick, his face against the side of Patrick’s head, arms wrapped around him when he says, “Yes, obviously yes, you dumbass.”

“Because I said it last night and you didn’t so-”

“When last night?”

“In bed.”

“What? I don’t remember that.”

“I said wake me up after you shower and you said okay. And then I said I want Starbucks on the way to practice and you said no frappuccino’s. And I said I hate you and you said okay. And then I said no, I don't, I love you and you said okay, and then you just fucking fell asleep!”

Jonny grasps Patrick’s face and kisses him once, twice, licking his lips like he can’t get enough, a no doubt idiotic smile on his face the entire time.

“Sorry to tell you but, I was asleep for that whole conversation.”

“No you weren’t,” Patrick scoffs.

“Yeah, I was. I remember ‘wake me up after you shower’ and that’s it. I was out.”

“Are you for real? You were talking to me in your sleep?”

“You get chatty late at night and I’m tired. I’ve learned how to tune you out.”

“I get chatty?! _I do_?!” Patrick jerks indignantly; moving as if to pull away, but Jonny holds him still, gentling him with a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Well yeah, it’s one of the reasons I love you,” Jonny says and steps back to open the lube.

Patrick turns his head to watch him, expression a mix of fond annoyance and want.

“Say it again,” he demands.

Jonny fits two fingers to Patrick’s hole and slips them inside, pumping them slowly in and out and seeing the heavy lidded gaze of Patrick’s eyes staring back at him.

“Love you,” Jonny says, because it’s easy and because he doesn’t know why he waited so long to say it. “Love you, want you, all the time.

Patrick trembles, eyes closing shut on a gasp as Jonny hits right on his prostate over and over again.

“Need you now,” he says. “Fuck me. Fuck me please.”

Jonny doesn’t answer, just pulls his hand away, his own shorts down and slicks up his rock hard cock.

In the distant, rational, part of his brain he knows he should be worried about someone finding them or hearing them, but he can’t. Patrick’s open and beautiful and fevered before him and Jonny wants, he just wants.

The first press inside of Patrick is always so good, the way they fit together so fucking hot and perfect and amazing. Patrick’s ass swallows his cock right up, and as Jonny thrusts in and out of his body he fists Pat’s dick so he can move them both just how they like it.

Patrick’s whimpering into his own arm, saying, “Fuck Jonny, yeah just like that, harder, fuck me harder, harder, harder oh god.”

Jonny angles himself so he can try to hit Patrick’s prostate with every thrust, his balls slapping against the curve of Patrick’s ass as he mouths at the back of Patrick’s neck.

“Want me to come in you?”

“Yesssss,” he says and it sounds loud and husky and ruined.

“Then come for me now,” Jonny orders, thumb and forefinger slipping over Patrick’s leaking cock head and around the crown.

Patrick, because he’s a gorgeous, obstinate fucker, waits two more pumps before moaning and spilling all over Jonny’s hand. He clenches perfectly around Jonny’s dick, his warmth wrenching Jonny’s orgasm out of him only seconds later. He bites down on a curse, smashing his face into Patrick’s neck as he drives his cock as far into Patrick’s body as it will go.

When they’ve calmed, Jonny leans over to kiss Patrick’s cheekbone and then takes hold of himself as he eases out. He pulls up Patrick’s pants and then his own before sliding down the wall and dragging Patrick down with him. For a few minutes they sit quietly, Patrick leaning into his chest in the silent hallway.

“I’m sorry,” Jonny says, after a while.

“For fucking me in a hallway?” Patrick smirks.

“For not hearing you last night.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” Jonny says, earnest and intense and this time he looks right at him.

Patrick’s whole face breaks out into a wide smile. “Okay.”


End file.
